


Lunacy

by Fairy (laterie)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Dream-like states, Easy horror, Jackson composer, M/M, Moon is giving Jackson hard times and also good times, NOTES dammit not noted sorry, Non-con - read the Noted in the fic it's not acutally non-con, READ THE NOTES BY THE END OF THE STORY IF YOU'RE WORRIED, Self-harming, Sex, Use of painkillers, but i had for people who would disagree, hallucination, lucide dreaming, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laterie/pseuds/Fairy
Summary: Jackson is a composer, a loner man who lives for his piano and music until he can't stand it anymore. Every artist should believe in magic or else we could lose our minds forever.
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Lunacy

**Author's Note:**

> Since we all are Mooned by GOT7, let's look at who's the real Moon here.

Jackson's right hand trembled as it ran over the ivory keys of his grand piano. The other arm was bandaged and safely tucked against his chest with a dark sling covered with a silver line. Jackson loved everything that reminded him of the silver winter or golden summer Moon. Everyone had a different Muse, but the skies were his. Being a famous composer gave Jackson opportunities to chase his cosmic dreams and built imaginary ladders to Moon. A little more realistically, build a house on the Scottish shore where the night was darker than the deep ocean and Moon bigger than the sun. 

Ever since Jackson moved into his two-story house, his perception of the world has changed. He lived too far away from his family and friends, so the only company was his music, wine, and the Moon, which he could watch through the french windows.

It was poetic, the vision of a loner composer sitting in the dark of his house and watching the Luna traveling across the skies. Jackson was almost thrilled by the imagination of a song he could write. Still, before he could finish the song, Jackson had some business in the capital city where a drunk driver ran over him and then crashed against the library building. Jackson ended up with a fractured hand, injured head, and bruises all over his body. It was still better than being smashed against the library and dead. 

Jackson, though, couldn't compose since painkillers heavily medicated him. He spent his days and nights listening to music or taking walks on the rocky beach. It was cold November, with nights stretched over most of the day like a thick blanket. Jackson didn't mind cold winter when he could turn his house into a cozy little bunker with blankets, tea, and books. The crackling sound from the fireplace filled his house like a broken metronome, but somehow, it made Jackson relaxed. 

He was warm, though tired from the pills, and on the verge of sleep when he heard the balcony door open. The drapers blew in the window, creating a sensual dance with snowflakes. Jackson stood up immediately. The penetrative cold made him shiver. He locked the balcony door. Through the glass and swirl of snowflakes, he could see the silver fool Moon peeking from behind the clouds.

Jackson sighed at that. 

Alone, in the middle of nowhere, with his depressive thoughts and a broken arm. What a life of a celebrity. The man who composed hundred of movie songs was now all alone, living a life straight from a novel. 

"You know," Jackson said to the Moon, "if you're bored, we could talk. It seems like you have no other business than just being pretty." 

A big fluffy cloud covered the Moon, and Jackson sighed again, "put yourself together." 

He remained there, standing behind the window and watching the unchanged skies. Jackson went to bed late that night. It was almost three AM when he put out the fire and went to bed. He dreamed of building a ladder long enough to reach the Moon. To his surprise, it wasn't the round rock orbiting Earth, but a house with thousands of silver towers sparkling in the sunlight like pearls. The Moon was actually a person so ethereal and beautiful that when Jackson opened his eyes, his brain couldn't describe in words what he saw.

It happened again the next night, this time he was alone, as the Moon was waxing crescent and was getting behind the Earth. Every time Jackson woke up, he felt dizzier and more tired as if the dreams were sucking all of his energy and forcing him to go back to sleep so he could revisit the Moon city. What will happen after New Moon? 

At this point, after a whole week of weird dreams, Jackson felt like he’s hallucinating from the pills. He swallowed them down with tea and exhaled loudly. His arm hurt like a bitch. Maybe after he gets well, he will write a song about pain so annoying that a man went insane imagining Moon as a person. 

When Jackson pulled back the curtain in his bedroom, he gasped in shock. It was dark. 

He woke up in the middle of the night. 

"What the hell?" he turned to see time on the clock alarm. Seven in the morning, but the skies were pitch black with no stars or the Moon. 

Jackson slapped his face repeatedly, " _no!_ " 

It couldn't be real. The clock must've been broken. 

Cold ran down his spine as Jackson heard the balcony door in the living room open again. Now, he was trembling from fear more than from the cold. Jackson was glad he was wearing socks in bed, so he only put on a black sweater and immediately strode to close the door. It was snowing again. The drapes were swaying inside the room as if in a dance. 

Jackson shut the door and retried if the lock wasn't broke. Then he closed the curtains and stepped away. His heart hammered in his chest, hitting his ribcage painfully. If he moved into a hunted house, then the ghost was doing a _fucking_ great job. Anxious, Jackson fisted his sweater and tried to calm himself down by trained breathing exercises.

"No, _no…_ " Jackson shook his head, running his fingers through his brown hair, "you're going crazy, just shut up, man." 

He hit his head with the heel of his palm when a sharp C resonated in the living room. Jackson twisted his head in shock and looked at the piano. An invisible force pressed the keys down. And then it hit the keyboard again, sharp C all over again. 

Jackson's breath went staccato. He was close to a panic attack. 

_'Go to sleep, go to sleep. I'll play you a lullaby.'_

A deep soothing voice was penetrating the air like a brand new element. The blue electric flashes could be visible around the piano as Jackson jerked away from the sparks and almost flipped over the vase with dry red roses. 

_'You shouldn't be awake.'_

Jackson watched as invisible hands started to dart across the keyboard of his piano. Beethoven's Moonlight sonata has filled the room, and Jackson couldn't think anymore. His brain was empty, while in his eyes, only the sparkles were reflecting on. 

'It's _not for your eyes to see.'_

The room spun with Jackson, and he collapsed on the floor as the ceiling opened itself to reveal a stary sky. Jackson felt wetness on his face. The snow was slowly descending into his living room. Who was playing, and who's a voice talking to him? 

Jackson was slowly falling asleep in the middle of his fluffy carpet. He couldn't think anymore. The world turned off and disappeared together with him. 

**

Jackson woke up in his bed. He felt melted, like a one with the mattress. The clothes on his body were disgustingly stuck on his body. Yesterday, when he woke up, the whole freaking scenery popped in his mind right away; it must've been a nightmare. Now he could feel the strange touch of reality as his eyes moved across his room. How could he explain to himself the difference between hallucinating in real life and having a nightmare? Thinking about it only brought him a headache. 

The clock showed him elven before noon. Like under a spell, Jackson's eyes drifted across the wooden floor of his bedroom and ended up under the long curtains. There was a line of sunlight creeping under. He closed his eyes, relieved. 

It was time to wake up, but Jackson didn't feel like moving at all for some reason. His body was nailed to the bed and heavy as an anchor. Good that he didn't have any pet, or God save the poor animal from his lunacy. 

Great, everything was now turning into Moons. 

Jackson groaned into his pillow and decided that it won't hurt him to sleep a bit longer. 

Just a bit _longer._

**

It was nerve-wracking. First time in his life, Jackson felt like he would rather watch a rat running in the wheel than the Moon. It was constant in his head. Every time he looked at the sky or saw it on TV or the internet, Jackson felt a strange pulling in his chest and mind as if the two absolutely different organs wanted to mend into one. 

Something eerie happened that night when Jackson had lost the concept of everything. The truth was hidden in the craters of the silver orb. Like a shameless giant, the Moon was staring into his windows. 

"It's not fair," Jackson murmured as he was looking at curtains that were hiding the balcony door, "why are you doing this to me?" 

Tomorrow, if the wheater will be better, he should go to the hospital for a brain check, because it wasn't quite normal to lost consciousness for a whole day. Even if it was a nightmare, it only meant he was out for more than twenty hours, which was also abnormal. 

"I thought we're friends," Jackson tilted his head and looked at the chandelier hanging low from the ceiling. A vivid image of dark blue skies has opened in front of his eyes. The shadows looked like a painting when everything started to crumble down. The curtains moved, and Jackson's head jerked back. He frowned, his fear suddenly replaced by anger.

"Not today!" He stood up, throwing the blanket away. 

For a moment, he only watched the curtains for any suspicious movement. The silence in his house was creepy and not helping at all. He should at least turn on the tv or some music. Jackson bailed his fist into the sleeve of his white sweater as he nervously stepped closer to the balcony. He was imagining a thirsty monster, werewolf, or a vampire standing on the balcony. He lifted his arm with a deep breath and swiftly opened the heavy, black with silver threads decorated curtains. 

Nothing, but with snow-covered balcony. 

Jackson closed his eyes as he exhaled slowly. Goddamit. 

He was losing his mind. 

He went back to the sofa and dropped on it, heavy like a stone. There should be some rational explanation like painkillers messing with his head. He should go to bed and, from now on, try to sleep through the whole night because it certainly wasn’t safe for him anymore. As Jackson shifted on the sofa to get more comfortable with his broken hand, he caught a glimpse of light in the window. What day was it? There shouldn't be any Moon today. Was it that long?

"I can't believe it!" the C shaped Moon was there, in the sky, hanging low and glaring at Jackson in a somewhat angry form. 

"I should be the angry one!" Jackson gritted his teeth, "you keep messing with me, young man."

 _Yeah,_ stupid. 

"Who told you to come here and mess with me?!" 

_A man who got mad at the Moon_ that could be a good theme song for a thriller. It didn't matter anyhow, how crazy Jackson sounded in his empty and quiet house. No ghosts, but a mental breakdown. The collision with the car probably caused him a temporary crack in his brain that doctors had overlooked. 

"You think it's funny to… _do_ what you did?"

At this point, Jackson didn't give a damn and kept pouring his frustration at the Moon as if it could physically hear him or come down and have a debate. 

"You keep changing and messing with me! You know it's not even fair! I've always loved you, always, my best friend, my Muse, and what did you do?!" Jackson stood up, "I'm going to sleep, stay where you are! You are not invited to my bedroom!" 

He should've known better. 

After doing his bedtime routine in the bathroom and freshly showered, Jackson went immediately into his bed, covering himself with the thick duvet and blanket. The windows were safely hidden with curtains, so he was not afraid of the violator interfering with his sleep tonight. Good that the meds helped him fall asleep, or Jackson would probably be pacing around the piano in frustration as for the first days before his body had adjusted to the pills.

The silence was almost haunting, but Jackson's mind was drifting into dreamland anyhow. Hence, his body relaxed, leaving Jackson at the mercy of whatever was happening in the darkness of his house. 

It was two in the morning when Jackson felt overwhelmed by the sudden heat in his room. He kicked away the blanket and duvet and rolled up his long-sleeved shirt with his hand. Even his skin felt hot at the touch. Jackson groaned in his sleep. The dryness in his mouth was getting uncomfortable.

But _goddammit,_ what was wrong with the temperature in his bedroom? Unwillingly Jackson has cracked open his eyes. The haze still didn't allow him to see anything, his room was pitch black, but he could see a bright strip of light coming from the living room. Did he forget to turn off the TV? Probably. 

But honestly, he was too groggy to sense any danger or abnormality. He nestled his head on the pillow as he was falling back to sleep. 

A quiet _shh_ interrupted the thread between reality and sleep. Jackson frowned. It had to be his mind playing games with him while he was still half-way asleep. 

The heat has increased after that. Jackson's breath fastened. He felt cold and hot at the same time, shivers running across his whole body. Something wet has brushed against his uncovered stomach, making him moan in surprise. Jackson felt tugging at his pajama pants, warm hands caressing his hipbones, and then there was again the wetness above his most sensitive parts. 

He could hear a male voice, but the words sounded funny, like in reverse and echo as if Jackson was in a cave. It almost felt like lips when Jackson thought about it, as if someone was kissing him down his happy trail, creating a wet path of kisses to his hardening cock.

What a strange wet dream. 

Jackson rubbed his naked legs against each other. He wanted to close his thighs. It was too cold and wet, it definitely felt like a cave. He frowned and groaned when something caught his ankles and yanked him lower on the bed. With a sharp inhale, Jackson opened his eyes. Bright, silver light filled all of his senses. He couldn't see any face or shape, just pure light hovering over him and holding his legs open. Jackson's heart hammered in his hearing, the words from the entity were still in reverse, but somehow Jackson knew it was calling his name in the middle of mumbling nonsense. 

What was happening to him? Another nightmare or wet dream? The fear felt too surreal, but the pain in his chest was more than real. 

_'I won't hurt you.'_

_'You didn't invite me into your bedroom, so I took you into mine.'_

Jackson turned his head to the side. It was not a cave but a chamber made of silver and black silk. The bed was huge, covered in red brocade and satin. The smell reminded him of jasmine and fresh snow. Jackson couldn't hold his eyes open anymore as the light was tiring them out. As he put his head back on the pillow, Jackson was reminded again that the strange creature was holding his legs open and having a good look at his private areas. Somehow it aroused Jackson even more. The heat was unbearable. He wanted out, wake up for the orgasm, and then go back to sleep. 

_'No waking up yet, not my love.'_

Warmth wrapped Jackson's whole, but the center of the burning sensation was his cock that was being swallowed and sucked hard. Jackson whimpered loudly, fisting the satin sheets under his body. It had no progression, it began at its peak and ripped the orgasm right out of him. He cried louder as his body spasmed.

Jackson was coming hard and into someone's mouth. He had never been too expressive when it came to his sex life, but today, he was screaming, his body was off the mattress when ribbons after ribbons covered his stomach. He couldn't stop trembling, his body was on fire, the orgasm kept hitting every part of him, wave after wave poured the sweetest feeling into his veins until he felt a weight covering him.

Someone hugged him tightly and pulled him back to sleep. 

Strange, orgasm should've wakened him up. 

**

Three weeks later, Jackson still couldn't stop thinking about the oddest wet dream he has ever had. Doing the natural to every human being was frustrating because his body couldn't stop asking for higher standards. In comparison with that night, every orgasm felt like tickling. Jackson felt restless and uneasy by the fact that he couldn't probably satisfy himself without actually using his dick as he should. 

When he was in the town to finally get rid of the brace, Jackson stopped by in the pastry shop and bought a cheesecake for himself with a cup of hazelnut latté. The cashier was a beautiful Irish woman, her hair looked like in flames, and Jackson couldn't stop staring. Something was off with the color, it wasn't his favorite shade, but it was stunning anyway because it reminded him of fire and warmth that he was seeking so baldy this winter, it wasn't like him to behave so stupidly alphaish. 

Jackson put everything in the back of his car and locked the door. He had decided on a little shopping trip. Not that he needed any clothes or home accessories, but he was craving for something expensive and classy. Maybe rose gold or pure silver. 

"Maybe you had sleep paralysis."

Jackson entered the Cartier shop with a big smile, but he felt like dreaming again when he heard that. He searched for answers for three weeks, and then a random cashier just brought up the worst possible option. 

"Morning, sir, may I help you?"

She wasn't even Scottish; her accent was pure British. And why was it even bothering Jackson when his accent was American? 

"I'm actually…" he looked at the other woman that was polishing the glass. Her hair was silver, long and falling on waves over her shoulders. Her hips swayed in the tight sheath dress as she continued on the cleaning.

When she turned around, Jackson could see her face. She had nicely made makeup in black and silver shades. Attractive, definitely a beautiful woman, his type, but also _not._ And that was a bit disturbing, even considering that Jackson didn't want to ask her for a number. He had something else in his mind when it came to a life partner, unclear, pure, and out of this world like the Moon.

Jackson ended up buying a rose gold bracelet for himself. The assistant's name was Gabrielle, she was French actually, and when they met four days later, it was in her apartment. Jackson put on a good show, made her come three times, and when the lights were out, he spent the rest of the night staring at the full Moon.

Did the Moon see what Jackson has done? 

_Perhaps._

**

Jackson was done with his hand exercising for today. Excited as a kid, he sat down on his piano's stool and put his fingers on the ivory keys. The first press was like a chorus of angels to him, the second was ringing his ears like bells to heaven, and when his fingers ran over the keys and created a melody, he giggled in happiness. 

As the minutes passed, the smile on Jackson's face was decreasing until he was frowning as the melody was continually changing. It's been two months since the fingers of his left arm could play, and the first song that was running in their mind was Moonlight sonata? What _bullshit._ Devastated, as if someone put a spell on him, Jackson couldn't stop playing the damned melody. His head was spinning as he was almost aggressively playing such a soothing piece. 

Something was wrong, and it was not the lack of a Christmas tree in Jackson's house during the holidays. It was because he merely couldn't stop playing even when his hand started to ache. 

The balcony door burst open with the glass spilling out and shattering on the floor. Jackson's eyes widened in shock at that sound, but he couldn't stop playing. However, the piece has changed, and now the melody Clair de Luna was escaping from under his fingers. It felt the same as when he couldn’t move in his dream.

"Heavenly."

Jackson's pulse throbbed in his neck, making it almost impossible to breathe properly. The voice, it was the _deep, alluring voice_ from his dreams. 

"Though, I wish that everything about you could've remained heavenly." 

Jackson gulped. His hands pressed the wrong keys as he started to shake. The off note broke the spell around him. Without the music, the house turned into a cold tomb. It almost slipped Jackson’s mind that he used to be different than this ghost sitting behind his grand piano and smiling, secretly hating on everyone and everything. 

Heavenly and on the brick of losing his mind.

Jackson could feel the cold wind entering the house from the broken door and shivered. He was sure that it was no kind of dream or drug use. He wouldn’t react so naturally if he were under any influence.

Jackson was clean and well-rested.

Then, maybe he really hit his head hard that morning. 

" _Kayee Wang,_ " the person spoke again, "look at you." Cold fingertips touched Jackson's shoulders. He only could look down at the pale digits that were pressing against his breastbones. That wasn't a natural skin color unless this creature was dead or an alien. 

"W-who are you?" 

"Your best friend," it said, "your Muse and your lover."

Fear paralyzed Jackson when the creature suddenly moved, and its hands slipped away from his shoulders. The cold was unbearable. Jackson's breath had turned into steam, and his lips purple. He had no fathom idea of what was happening, not even bits of that. 

He was scared and cold.

Until his eyes met the silver and cold eyes of the winter Moon.

Jackson gasped in shock; his face paled as he forgot to breathe. _Heavenly._ Breathtaking and extraterrestrial, like nothing Jackson had ever seen in his entire life. How could he describe the ultimate perfection and beauty? After all, it was the Moon itself, standing in Jackson's room.

Call him insane. 

Jackson was sure about what he saw.

Silver, by the wind, messed hair, almond eyes, cold as the universe itself, skin translucent and covered with ghostly dark lines of veins that couldn't look any human being. If Jackson didn't notice before, then, he did now. The creature was topless, wearing only garments that looked like shining silver leggings. But _gods,_ the cold, the abnormal temperature radiating out of it was almost burning Jackson's skin. 

"Who are you?" Jackson asked again, his lips trembling from the cold. 

"I'm Yien, your Muse."

"My Muse…" Jackson was only fifteen when he named his Muse, “am I on drugs?"

"Possibly not." An amused smile appeared on its face. 

"If you're my Muse, then you should be a man."

"I am."

"Moon?" Jackson asked carefully. 

Nothing made sense anymore, so he decided not to fight the feeling. Somehow it felt right, just like breathing. He was mesmerized by the unearthly beauty. Maybe it was an alien playing with his sanity. Jackson didn't know anymore. It exhausted him.

"Yours," the man said, suddenly too close to Jackson without even moving, "your Yien."

" _Wha—"_ he couldn't even finish before the man bent down and kissed him. Jackson felt like fainting just from the kiss. It was nothing like in the dream, and honestly, he doubted it was a dream at all. 

"How is this possible?" Jackson was out of his air, and at this point, he believed that it was only the breathtaking appearance of Yien that kept him conscious. 

"You were yearning," Yien said, his voice like bells in the wind, alluring Jackson to submit to the sound and follow it anywhere. 

"Lonely, hurt, and aching for lust and love." 

_Oh,_ that. The global problem of every human being, but only Jackson Wang, was blessed by the ability to be a total wreck so he could create his Muse out of the stardust and his negative emotions.

Jackson couldn't stop staring into the fierce eyes. He was a piece of iron while Yien was a magnet, pulling him closer and closer. He could stare forever. 

"More like you are my Earth," Yien said with a smile, probably knowing how to read Jackson’s mind too, “you keep pulling me closer and closer, and now, I am here."

"You are here…" Jackson whispered, "it – it was you who… the other night."

Yien leaned closer again, "I want it again."

"You…" he felt boneless like made only for the pleasure that was radiating out of his Muse’s human body. His brain couldn't grasp the intensity of abnormal layers. It was scary, freaky, and erotic at the same time. What a strange combination. 

"What is happening to me?" Jackson trembled, "what is happening to—"

"I love you," Yien kissed him, "I love you with my whole heart."

Love? What love? And who was actually the Muse and Moon? Jackson felt like fainting any second, but his brain was still playing Moonlight sonata and didn't want to have any business with Jackson. The lagging and lousy connection between logic and conciseness were making Jackson dizzy and cold inside.

How should he pressure his brain to cooperate more than giving him the verbal skills finally? Jackson closed his eyes tightly as he gripped the edge of the stool. He was ready to see nothing or admit that he lost his mind if Yien would still be there when he opens it.

The circle finally stopped loading, and Jackson opened his eyes.

"You are the Moon!" Jackson snapped out of the absurdum around him, "the Moon?!" 

"It's New Moon now," Yien cupped his face, "because I'm here and not up there."

"Not up there…" Jackson deadpanned. 

Goodbye, sanity. 

**

Jackson woke up in his bed with an incredible headache. It hurt like a whole horde of elephants stomping on his skull. He massaged his temples, trying to ease it down. He didn't remember how he got into his bed, or what exactly happened before, but probably he fainted, _again._ The dreams kept fucking up his head. It was so scary that Jackson considered visiting a therapist. Whatever was happening to him, it was turning him into a mad man. 

Maybe it was the right time to move out into a sunny place where night lasts only five hours because spending every night being anxious and shitless scared wasn't how he imagined his life. 

What was truly disturbing was that he remembered somehow detailed dream about being fucked so good that he actually fainted from that. Thinking about it now, Jackson felt ashamed for being such a weak ass. These wet dreams were incredibly detailed and fascinated, and Jackson always came hard, but he could never wake up after that. 

Which was strange because… Jackson suddenly jerked awake and propped himself on his elbows. He could feel it. Now when his body was fully awake, Jackson felt the wetness and aching between his legs. He threw away the duvet, frightened by what he might find when he looks down.

Shocked to the very core of his soul, Jackson pulled himself away from the silver spot on his dark blue sheets. It was not only on the bed but also on Jackson's inner thighs, on his dick and balls, and he didn't have to guess again where it actually ended. 

"My god!" He covered his mouth with his trembling hand. 

"This can't be real! It can't be real!" he jerked away, curling into himself in the middle of his pillow nest. He started hyperventilating as his brain simply couldn't proceed with what happened or could've been happening right now. 

"Are you hurt?" a gentle voice pierced through the black, anxious bubble around Jackson and made him look at the person standing in the doorway of his bedroom. 

Yien. 

Static radio and then blackness. 

**

"If you will keep fainting on me, I'll start taking it personally."

Jackson groaned as he opened his eyes into the dim lights of his bedroom. Oddly enough, he felt comfortable as two warm hands held him close. Behind him, the stable and hot body was like a shield, radiating so much security and love that Jackson felt like someone stripped him off his body and left only his soul.

"What…" he looked down at the limbs tightly wrapped around him but found any anomalous. 

"Warm enough?" Jackson shivered at that voice. The whimpers and embarrassing sounds he was doing during the last night came back to him. The worse! It was real, as Jackson found out.

Jackson was afraid to look back because, yes, he could faint again. The hammering in his chest didn't sound quite healthy. But when he finally forced himself to turn his head and open his eyes to _see_ , he was surprised by the incredibly warm and bright ayes. Yien's hair ware in the shade of silver blond and his eye color reminded him of ambers. 

"Do you perhaps like the summer Moon more?" the tone was so gentle and comforting that Jackson’s body started to relax on its own.

What should he answer? 

"Well, when it's the day, then everything is brighter, even the Moon, right?" 

Silence. 

"I should explain to you how it works before you faint on me again." Yien smiled, and what a smile it was, blinding Jackson, so he had to close his eyes. 

"But it's New Moon. How can you be here when you should be on the other side of the world?" Jackson asked, feeling like a total fool just by saying what he just said. 

"You don't think that I'm actually that rock orbiting Earth, do you?"

"Y-yeah?" 

Yien went silent, but Jackson could see how the corner of his lips twitched. Oh no, was the Moon about to laugh at his poor soul? Jackson wished this was just a hallucination. Maybe he was locked in a hospital, tied to a bed while having the most vivid dream in the history of humankind. 

"I'm the spirit of the Moon you created when you were a boy. You fantasied about Muse that lives in the castle on the Moon."

"I don't," Jackson cleared his throat, embarrassed, "I don't understand."

"I'm your Moon," Yien brushed his fingers across Jackson's lips, "I've been living as a ghost until I gained enough strength from your loneliness and longing. I couldn't watch you suffer anymore." 

No, _nada._

"Kayee, come on!" how could the Moon get irritated by a mere human being? Though Yien was cute and looked like a meringue, it was still odd, and the rational side of Jackson's brain denied it drastically.

"Should I show you again how _real_ I am?" 

Something was haunting and dark about the voice and suggestion, just like the other night when Jackson's living room ceiling turned into the firmament. Then it happened, the redness creeping into Jackson’s face as the pieces of memories fell into a perfect picture of him and Yien making love in the soft light of Jackson’s bedroom.

“Oh, my God!”

All the signs, the spots on the bedsheets, and the marks on Jackson’s body were real. He fucked his own Muse. How twisted was that? No way! He wanted to descend into the hottest hell and rot in there. Not that he just discovered that his Muse was made out of his loneliness to fill the emptiness in Jackson’s heart and that Yien could leave very artistic traces after himself.

“Th-the silver dust on my…”

“Kisses,” Yien pressed his lips against Jackson’s neck.

“The _thing_ on my thighs…”

“That’s my love.”

Jackson had so many questions that his brain felt like spam. He still couldn’t clearly think, but deep in his heart, he was sure that he was going down with the sex business willingly and enjoyed every part of it. Hell, his body screamed for more as Yien was holding him between his muscular arms. Jackson could stare at that face forever, and it wouldn’t be enough.

“How real this is?” he asked with a small voice.

“The most real.”

Out of despair and loneliness, if it was true, then Yien couldn’t be the only walking and talking Muse out there because isolation was the most skillful killer of people. Locked in his house, Jackson might be happy with his music, but not with his life as he was continually searching for an escape. The skies and Moon were a perfect asylum.

Jackson was sure that there was no secret he could hide from Yien. He was always like an open book. Accidents and tragic events were sometimes connected, just like that morning when Jackson stepped on the road, not minding the red lights. His head was empty, careless, and the itching on his bandaged wrists, as he stepped out of the hospital, felt like nothing else but a hellfire.

“Last night, I dreamt…” Jackson said as he watched Yien’s fingers gently brushing against the scars on his wrist, “that someone loved me.”

“Was it a dream, though?” the fingers left a dusty silver path across the scarred skin, covering it.

“I don’t want to,” Jackson gritted his teeth, trying to surpass his tears, “I don’t want it to be a dream.”

“Then, it was not.” Gently, Yien started to stroke his dark hair, dusting it with silver. It reminded Jackson of stardust as if Yien was trying to create a galaxy inside Jackson’s house.

“It was not…” he repeated, smearing his tears across his face.

“No,” Yien caught Jackson’s hand and brought it to his lips to kiss his fingertips, wrist, and palm, “because I _really_ love you.”

Jackson felt like his tears were blooming a garden in his chest. He realized that he would never be alone as long as he had his Muse, the element that made Earth magical and worth living.

**Author's Note:**

> The reason why did I put NON-CON there is, that the first time they're having sex, it happens in a dream-like state, but it's actually not a dream. We can debate if it's non-con or not, but trust me; I would never willingly write about that ever. It's like when you have a nice wet dream, but it turns to be a reality.
> 
> Thank you for reading. I finished this at 1 AM with the Moon glaring at me through my window. The long way to toilet was drastic for me lol. I had a weird feeling. You know my mom promised me to the Moon when I was like 4. I was scared it was my time last night.
> 
> Please leave a comment, and ♥ it means a lot.


End file.
